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Black-African American Freedom Poems | Black-African American Poems About Freedom

These Black-African American Freedom poems are examples of Black-African American poems about Freedom. These are the best examples of Black-African American Freedom poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Personification | |

A faceless enemy (what's there to Celebrate)

He appear to be a ladd of maybe 9 yrs. old.  It's Friday, as our troop's prepared to move
out unto enemy territory, and then KABOOM!!...he becomes a suicide bomber.  WOW! face-
less at such a young age.  Now as I gather my comrade's body parts (as well as my thou-
ght's) to myself I say, "these people's belong in a cage".  Pain in Irag, will it ever end, here
children's are taught too kill again & again.  Our Boy'zz in misery, misery all around us, the
stinch of death is everywhere.  Their fearless leader leads no more.  Soon he's capture, "one
would think, finally!! and now answer's of life can be restore, but sadly there's only more
bloodshed here in Irag.  And a salacious cloud still hoovers above our heads as the dead
bodie's continue's to rise, another soldier get sent home and familie's shall not be able to
stop the flow of tear's pouring from their eye's. (faceless at such a young age)
Our Boy's and Gal's in misery - here in a country, were there is no love, "A faceless enemy",
we continue to fight.  Our Congressmen and Senator's vote to keep this sinceles war going,
"for our freedom", lying to themselve's and to the American people's.  "For our Freedom",
"I don't understand-how can freedom be justified with a bullet and a gun".  How can Freedom
be (?) when every Saturday you'll be burying your daughter or your son.  Someday soon
we do get to go home, from here to a faceless nation.  As the dead bodie's continue to rise,
and before the break of dawn starts another day.  Your lil 9 year old goes outside to play.
In this land of confusion lil boy's also goes outside, freedom for him is to suicidily kill the
enemy-each and every morning in the name of Allah his mother tells him.  So 10 U.S. sold-
ier's live's are gone, more are on the way.  Remember their President is dead and gone
while our wants a "Celebration".

P.S.... This particular poem came to me in a dream, as in a dream I was there (in Irag)
holding this soldier who had been shot, and he relate's this particular
poem for me to write:

Copyright © John Streeter | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

I Am An African

I am an African
Not black, not colored
Definitely not a Negro.

Do not call me out of my name for I am not what you think I am. 

Am I that black man in the streets
That doesn't know
What to do 
And where to go

Am I that drug dealer
Roaming late at night
That's looking for that cop
So that I can start a fight

Am I that parent
That was looking for that thrill
But now has to pay child support 
And can't even pay my bills

Am I that brother 
That walks all around town 
That should have his head up
But always has it down

NO I am an African.

Copyright © Sean McDonald | Year Posted 2015

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Black History Month

Why is it called 'Black History Month'
Black means void of light
why because we are nonwhite
this should be voted out
because the name Human Race 
carries more weight
Sure, I understand
it is a way of denouncing the browner skinned man
Why is it there are tanning booths
for the lighter or paler skinned people of the world
they would rather call us 'boy' or 'girl'
Well, the fact remains we are really the majority
who else is given one entire month to give high esteem to for the accomplishments
of the so-called minority
In all actuality every time that you use your dryer thank G.T. Sampson
or stop at a traffic light thank G. Morgan
you are thanking God Almighty for blessing the person who you call 'black' for the ability to create these valuable worthwhile necessities
So, when you hear of someone having an open heart surgery thank the man of the human race with the browner skin for being the first to perform the first one
Ah, the victories we have won
do not frown
do not fret God will get you, yet
to admit that deep in your heart
we all play a part
in the world being 'it takes all kind to make it go around'
no one is better than the next
however, when you get ready to text
think about Mr. H.T. Sampson who invented it for your leisure
pleasure maybe even a luxury
Or when your horse needs a shoe say a silent 'thank you' to J. Ricks
Can we all just get along 
became a catchy realistic reachable phrase from a lighter skinned man who was beaten almost to a bloody  pulp for being a man you called 'black' by those of a different shade of skin
jealousy, hatred, discrimination, alienation, poverty, hunger, envy, degradation and demoralization has been shared even experienced by all race
the Human Race


Copyright © Sandra Dee Wilson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pussy -vulnerabilities

Pussy (Vulnerabilities)

Pussy

Men sometimes put no value to sex and the sacred decision a woman might hold dear for the reason to
Submit options of letting you indulge in her essences. See some have had men all over the world and there is one thing for
Sure that pussy has a name never a face, Mumu , myse ,kisse, pepita, catellus, passera, mita it  all mean
The same thing Pussy, pussy, pussy. And the truth of the matter is your sometimes not remembered or
Even thought about once you give the pussy up!
So guard and respect your pussy and you’ll be wiser for not giving it up, I thought of all the times I
Gave up my pussy and grieving the next day he was gone, nothing but a memory of the condom he either didn’t
Or did put on! I have disrespected my body for a moment of pleasure far too valuable to get rid of, and
The 15 minutes or less or if I’m lucky an hour of pleasure soon will be forgotten as he’s on to the next one
Or back with his main love or the one whose holding out, but she worth waiting for.
Pussy is abuse sometimes tainted with the smell of semen left inside you with your naïve ass, I’m not going
Anywhere imma be here for you, trust me so the pussy stinks reeks of disappointment!
As they get dressed to leave a delicate kiss on the forehead and a polite thanks for the pussy!
Don’t be this chick (hold out on giving up the Pussy, be known for your worth)
You’re so much more than ass or pussy! I now know my worth!

Written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines 9/16/2014
You have to be selective and or practice abstinence in order to be valued ,some women get lucky and he does come back the next day ,but for how long ? Men like to chase and if you give it up too easy its a waste of time ,hes no longer interested and will soon prowl for another ! Keep it to your self till the time is right ,if he won't wait then forget about him!

Copyright © Monica Chrisandtras Hines | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

AND ON THAT DAY

   AND ON THAT DAY…
   (APROPOS MLK: PART 1)

And on that day we will rise
And raise the hued shades of ignorance
And let the light of truth shine on our souls
And purify our hearts with warm rays of hope.

And on that day we will rise
And see rumors of wars sucked into black holes of peace.
And the phoenix birds shall give birth to cooing doves.

And on that day we shall confront our humanity
And boldly say to it, you must become all we can be;
And seek forgiveness for the acts that trampled the will of God;

And hope for redemption for the shredded dreams deferred.

And on that day America shall awaken from her slumber
And stretch forth her weary arms yawning a Nicodemus yawn.

And that day shall be the dawning of new beginnings;
And the chameleon shall change its colors no more.

And each hued hope shall be woven into the fabric of common destiny.
And the wheels of time shall roll us over into the New Jerusalem…

And on that day America will sing a new song;
And it shall be: My country’s tears to thee…
And on that day God will say: Well Done!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

freedom

Walk the wooden deck of the boat I was tied and shackled to. Feel the sun as it reaches down to the cotton fields I have picked, burns the ground and singes the skin dark as the night that calls for us all to find our freedom. Hold the chains that weigh on my soul and bind me to the man we are forced to call master. Trace the scars on my back that tell the story of how my will was broken, stepped on and left to die in a place only my ancestors can call their home, which I can only describe as a long story forgotten, and the tellers too far gone for their words to be heard. Look through my tired weary eyes that have seen too many scenes of red tears, last breaths and grave diggers to last one too many generations. Come sit, turn on the oil lamp who is too weak to even give off the illusion of something bright squint your eyes and sound out the letters connect each word, form each sentence that read out the directions to finding our freedom.

Copyright © trina aiken | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

Struggle for Freedom

Hopeless tears reign marks of 
struggle
followed by endless pain
The stigma "nigga" forever 
implanted in my DNA
From black face and sambo to 
mammy and sapphire
some still view us just the same
After years of struggle and 
progress
Not a lot has changed 

They assume stupidity just by 
the tint of my face
and because it's brown, I'm 
uneducated
a fool, a mistake
I'm the angry black woman 
that'll
roll my neck and put my fingers 
in your face
Or he's the one with the bad 
attitude 
and a gun to shoot up the place
Or the welfare queen - all she 
do is get high
Oh and he's the one that fits 
the description of that black 
guy

Still...Forever struggling for 
respect with no ideas
about what it's really like not to 
be automatically tagged 
"nigger/a"
So I stopped expecting miracles 
of blacking out racism
and continue the fight for 
freedom

Freedom from labels and 
stereotypes
Freedom from dumb ass black 
people who keep those 
stereotypes alive
Freedom from holds like hate 
and negative teachings and
Freedom from ourselves 
because some of us have 
stopped reaching
Some of us have given up the 
fight to be taken seriously
We've disgustingly lost our 
pride and our unity
We've decided to become 
enchanted with the stigma 
"nigga/er" 
so it's embedded in our DNA
Attached to more than just my 
skin
It's my soul that aches

The struggle for freedom will 
never end
Racism will never end
Until the end of existence as we 
know it
Get ready 
because all of the signs that it's 
here
Is showing 

Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rubaiyat | |

Black Perspective

A Turning Point In Life Is Equality
Writings in a Black Perspective....  	

The day will come  when all will be the same color
the mingling with the neighbor
just like it was in the  beginning
no one will have a rainbow blinder

Harriet Tubman, born a slave 
devoted to save
those that wanted  freedom
not sold or enslave  
 
Jackie Robinson was given a rough time 
for being black in all white baseball teams, in his prime
couldn’t not sleep or dine  with his teammates
at  anytime

Rosa Parks  sat in the front 
of the designated black section, indignant
she refused to give her seat to a white passenger.
she  was arrested for the incident

I went through life suffering racial discrimination
so I harden   my soul   because of rejection
a turning point in life is equality
and our salvation
   

Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker 
Contest Name:  Writings in a Black Perspective....

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rubaiyat | |

A Black Man's Perspective

Life in Africa was full; years in the bush, a treat.
Music made us happy; drums sounded for dancing feet.
A loving life with family always made us smile.
Living together freely, we never knew defeat.

Greedy slave hunters sailed down the Nile.
Chained us below with feces and bile,
Our curiosity was a big mistake!
We lived like that for a long bad while.

Sold to the highest bidder at the market by the dock,
Herded off to cotton fields, we became their livestock.
Forced to do hard labor; whipped until bare backs bled.
Rest would never come as time ticked on the clock.

The life of a slave was hard work; at least we were fed.
Some rested in cottages, others in a shed.
Scorching sun, sweat, blood, the whip did not feel good.
Calling a white man, “Master”, a slave’s daily dread.

Even in the best conditions, the human spirit was not free.
Mistreated; folks who could not take it were shot trying to flee.
A man could dream of Africa and his family all day.
Divided and sold into slavery a painful loss to see.

The Underground Railroad helped slaves run away.
Their owners and hounds tried to catch each stray.
Some of the lucky ones were never found.
Those who were caught for their lives had to pray.

Lincoln tried to free all slaves; the Klu Klux Klan still frowned.
John Wilkes Booth picked up his gun and shot the President down.
Slaves were free per history, but it was not as expected.
For even after the Civil War, burning and lynching did abound.

About one hundred years later, the issue was resurrected.
Rosa Parks stood up for her rights; NAACP directed.
The Civil Rights Movement brought freedom at last.
President Kennedy addressed the nation; equality enacted.

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

My freedom poem

I want freedom!
I want freedom!
I want freedom!

Copyright © tod gaines | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse | |

THE FREEDOM TRAIN

Run freedom child; keep thy body low amongst the shadows,
Nay never look back, lets hastes speed excel your stride,
For the devil’s steeds ride behind thee, and they’ll show thee
No mercy, run freedom child, run, towards the distant horizon.

Travel beneath the lunar light of the lantern moon, let its
Rays of illumination guild thee, towards liberties jurisdiction,
To the northern boarders beyond slavery's killing fields.
Beware the night-stalkers whom ride by the white lightening’s
Flash and sting at the bared flesh with the task-masters lash,
Humanities wolf pack on a blood scent’s travel, biting at thy
Unsaddled heals, Run freedom child, Run, for they are a Coming!

Deep within the hollows divides listen to the whispering winds,
It echoes with a low mournful tone, a sounding’s rheum vibrating,
With a shock waves raw force of power, it is rails of freedom
Burning towards thee, Harken freedom child, and listen to the
Thunderous cries of the Underground Railroad.
A payments ticket price, is the will to survivor as a free man,
Stamped by the inner beating heart’s desire, to taste the air of
Liberation, and to soar with his winged appendages outwardly
Amongst kindred flock as equals.
Beware my friend for far above thee, two birds of prey are
At battles striking range, for your soul’s precious blood.
Behold the southern night hawk, struggles to drag thee back
 To entrance of hells gates plantation, yet the great eagles
Sharpened talons are driven deeply within its crimson bleeding
Flesh of ignorance, biding thee time to flee to freedoms
Safety zone.

Run freedom child; keep thy body low amongst the shadows,
Nay never look back, lets hastes speed excel your stride,
For the devil’s steeds ride behind thee, and they’ll show thee
No mercy, run freedom child, run, towards the distant horizon.

All aboard cling to the iron handles of the freedom train,
Ride by the light of the shivery moon’s lantern of illumination,
And harken to the sounding’s echo of freedom’s distant winds,
Calling unto the souls of all men to be free, to excel, and to
Soar with the currents of equality as equals, amongst thee
Brother’s kindred.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN







Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

I Don't Hate America

I Don’t Hate America

I like the country I live in
That doesn’t mean I have to sing their songs
to prove that sh@!.
That doesn't mean that 
I can just can’t get over the fact that
they murdered the people who built it
 
America was dedicated to a proposition that
“all men are created equal, except
for women, indians and blacks

The white men were just fine is what we were told 
but what about those who were stolen that never made it over to NEW WORLD?
The ones that were thrown overboard and
those who died from sickness while in transport

Remember those who were born into slavery and never even knew what freedom was before their physical bodies left
and people like Thomas Jefferson
He understood that slavery was wrong but did not free his own until his death
What about those who beaten senseless and burned, and hanged,  
All while screaming “Nigger" What’s your new name?
Oh how soon do we forget…
That’s why I despise that word and
I don’t care who it is that uses it
#u$k that slavery sh@!
And #u$k that flag b@%ch!
#u$k you America because you’ve always made things hard .
So don’t look at me strange when I show those songs disregard and those fake ass patriotic undertones about how we are the land of the free
more like the land of the captured and the Home of the Slaves, see

I don’t’ hate America
I can be and do and go as I please
But, then I remember the poor people they injected with disease 
They thought they were getting free health care but the doctor is giving them syphilis 
Please! 

I remember the natives of this land
They slaughtered and labored them to work for freedom in their own land 

I remember the Civil War 
where we were a country divided by the Mason Dixon Line
The north and the south of the same country at war to save lives
 
I don’t hate America
This is my home 
But I refuse to let the things that 
my ancestors endured during the struggle of building SUCH A FINE COUNTRY be forgotten
It’s 2012 and the politicians still plottin to find a way to take away the black vote 
It’s the same shit, but now they just don’t use the noose to choke the life out of souls  
I’m so tired of the constitution and it’s loop holes, and amendments, and acts, and laws
This just proves that man can’t govern themselves because even with all these rules we constantly fall into the black hole deeper and deeper
I don’t hate America
I just choose to not take part in its little song and dance
I pledge my allegiance to God 
and continue to write and lose myself in my poetic trans 

Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

I AM

                                                                                                 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                                    
                                                                                                           

I AM  the voice of erstwhile nations

Mali
Ghana
and
Songhai
                                                                                                                                      
                                                                                                              

 I AM the river of all their sorrows
because their well has now gone dry

I AM
Africa

I AM Wisdom
The one who gave the world its seed

I AM the slave who broke his chains...
...behind their backs I learned to read

I AM the sound of children weeping
without guidance
Hope
or
Love

I AM their Keeper, I AM compassion
I AM their strength sent from above

I AM the echo of  Blackmen's protests
I AM Dark Hued, Caramel, and Tan

I AM a scholar and not inferior...
...I AM more than "three fifths" a man!

I AM the Sun, the Moon, the Galaxy
I AM the Dawn that brings the Light

I AM the eagle in all its glory
I AM the thought that takes to flight

I AM Maya, Brooks, and Sanchez
I AM the spark that lights the fuse

I AM the Dream that's reached fruition
I AM Woodson, Shabazz, and Hughes

I AM words that are not yet spoken
I AM all of the writers who go unheard

I AM their Spirit, I AM fulfillment...


..I AM..


A mixture of conscious stirred


By Don Simmons
Aka Poetiq1der
 

                                                                          
                                                                      


                 

Copyright © Don Simmons | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

Mind and Sound

Only light can penetrate the 
darkness
that resides in the default state 
of mind
I descend from beta to delta 
through
binaural beats; instantly caught 
between frequencies beyond 
time 

I absorb amplitudes of acoustic 
energy
and I learn to just be earth 
Since I am the earth 
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its 
existence, 
I've owned the power of 
omnificence 

I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a 
descendant 
Created in the image of a 
thought
and a feeling from the 
Universal Mind
I tune in to this vibration from 
rhythmic
pulse that manipulates 
subconscious minds

Immersed  between 4 and 7 
hertz;
brainwaves halt to a conscious 
sleep
All  chakras are aligned shining 
crown energy 
and now my consciousness 
begins to reap! 
and light begins to penetrate 
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there 

is now flooded with sound 
patterns
that force brainwaves to submit 
to power
of omnipresent sound that 
always was 
and always will be connected to 
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially 
beyond;
physical time and space

I long to embrace the intensity 
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds 
that resonate from the inner 
core
and continue to connect 
through the binaural beats that 
-  
remind me of before

Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining 
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel 
while reaping an abundance of 
benefits and rewards
Listen!! 
It's already yours

Just reach out and grab it 
as long as intention and ego is 
checked
the universe will correspond 
accordingly
it will deliver a life to you divine 
and orderly
Just listen to the sounds that 
were there from before
They will guide to to the 
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect 
directly with the source 



Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse | |

Home of the Slaves

Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change

People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.

People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names

The list could go on  
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou, 
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew

George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise

Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, 
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle, 
But obviously greatness can be done.

We can rise above this stigma 
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void 
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned 
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
It's mine

Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative | |

Eliza's Escape

 from Uncle Tom's Cabin  (See notes for story background)

The long night was not long enough; 
The new master and his hired men
Soon will come; the river rages,
The water glistens in the morning sun. 
The boat is tethered at the other side,
but water beats against the wharf
And ice blocks bob as if on ocean tide.

The child sleeps. I can but wait,
For merchants traveling to and fro
Will need to reach Kentucky’s shore;
I dare not rest when freedom is so close.
But hark! The men are in the street;
I fear one saw me in the window—
I hear the pound of booted feet.

Lord, help me, they will not take my only babe;
With the river, I’ll take my chance—
No thought. Ice bobs and sinks beneath the waves,
I leap without a backward glance.
The ice seems not so slippery
I leap and leap and leap again
God gives me purchase—we will be free!

The last frozen block sinks beneath 
My numbéd feet. I toss my child to the ground
And lunge—gripping grass midst mud and sleet,
The river roars behind, a deafening sound.
 But o’er my head—an open hand,
A heav’n sent soul, my babe held in his arms—
A chance at freedom in an angry land.

Copyright © Karen Ruff | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

LET US NEVER FORGET

Social injustice and economic inequality 
have always been practiced in our Nation's working industry
Irish need not apply, Hispanics we don't want your kind
and Blacks don't even show your face
this was the typical response to ethnic minorities in America's workplace

nepotism and favoritism were the norm and status quo
as it was not about your knowledge or skill but about who you know
let us never forget the unions and labor laws which evened the playing field
for if it was left up to corporate America economic inequality would never yield

Racism, discrimination and segregation on our Nation's history is a blight
and in spite of all the civil rights laws we still have to fight
for a measure of equal opportunity 
for some respect and a little dignity

let us never forget the Rev. Dr. King Jr., Medgar Evers, Cesar Chavez and Rosa Parks
those who stood up against injustice by igniting a socially conscious spark
they did not back down, they would not back off, they took a moral stance
so that every single human being in this country could have an equal chance

We hold these truths to be self-evident that all citizens shall be treated the same
regardless of race, color, age, gender or how we pronounce your name
and as we celebrate Black History Month let us never forget those who led the fight
in the struggle for social justice, economic equality and basic human rights

Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rubaiyat | |

BLACK: A TRIUMPH WITHOUT FEAR

BLACK: A TRIUMPH WITHOUT FEAR Black is beautiful but being black: somewhat painful... Teased and excluded by a state of mind from some fools Tattered roads are the ways our forefathers trod as before, skin color other than white isn't cool. Black for some is a sewn gown that women adore yet years ago black is the hue, some people deplore for being black is a ladder near to slavery claws though hearts- wells of white, still some abhors. Cotton fields and tobacco leaves these where the work though toiling good and crops aplenty, still no spark instead, weeps and wails, the constant gleaming prize. Black history is a staggering race to hit a mark. Our forefathers one shout: "Let freedom ring"! It is the longing ardor, we ever want to sing Even if there are threats to push Black people down still, we'll follow the fight of Martin Luther King Black history is a legacy of winning without fear a chronicle that ebb 'til today, it never disappears, 'cause racism a changeless present story of you and me, all around the Earth, not dormant in the atmosphere __________________________________________________________ Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker Contest Name: Writings in a Black Perspective. Placed 1st © O. E. Guillermo 7:40 pm, March 16, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

L'Overture

L'Overture


Lest we forget
Words often mouthed
For the dead of bloody war
Forgot not those great ones
Whose battles were on the home front
Seeking only equality of voice

Ray Charles to you was a singer
Backwards and long ago he was a preacher
A brilliant man of forward thought
Who gifted the world with three wise women
The teacher
The poet
The Lawyer

Flo taught many with words
Long ago and yet here today
Those who teach both young and old
Hold the noblest of positions
Steering the generations
To a higher cause
With kindness, with heart
With head held up to the skies
Standing ground for those before
Abhorring those acting immature

1872 saw the first black lawyer
A sharp mind of determined heart
Argued to the Supremes
Beauty and brains
Leading the way towards freedom
For women of all races
For in 1872 she had the social graces

The revolution of sonnets
Black woman and prose
The poem and the black rose
In 1893 to be printed by a Little
Sure meant a lot
Henrietta fought the enemy
With languages and words
Her Wordsworth more than Haitian blood

The past, the present
Merging onto our futures dreams
Hope cares not the color, none at all
Hope comes from the rainbows
Where voices and angels whisper
When we part this early soil
Make us all into one

If I had a coloring book
In it I would put these three
Who colored the freedom of women
With education, articulation and harmony
The pen indeed defeated the sword
L'Overture gagne

* L'Overture gagne = The opening , won

In Actual fact the correct spelling of the French word, would be “L'Ouverture” So I was using a play on words with the Revolutionaries last name.

Notes: Not much of a poem, however this was inspired by an old photo I saw of Charlotte E. Ray. The first African American Lawyer in United States, and the first female lawyer in the district of Colombia. When I did some digging, I found she had also 2 sisters, one a poet, one a teacher. Their father was a preacher who firmly believed in education.

Her sister was one Henrietta Cordelia Ray, an American poet. Her poetry of  Sonnets was a short book of 12 sonnets on Milton, Shakespeare, Raphael, and Beethoven, among other subjects. Her sonnet on the Haitian revolutionary Toussaint L'Overture is notable for its belated engagement in black politics (absent from her earlier verse) and for its allusions to William Wordsworth's famous sonnet, "To Touissaint L'Overture”

Well now, the title makes more sense, n’est pas? However the last name also means in English “The Opening” and I thought how fitting that in the late 1800’s black women were beginning to open doors to the future. 

Also now the line “Her Wordsworth more than Haitian blood” should be self explanatory and no wordsworth was not a typo! (even I am famous for them)

Now another of my passions, is French poetry, history and culture, and yes Touissaint L'Overture stood up to Napoleon and although historically he lost, and was deported to France where he died, I think its safe to say that “L'Overture gagne” meaning he won, in that he too was the “Opening” for the changes that would come later. In fact its there is some irony that all the revolution for change is often lost in the short term, when education and the pen make gains that are very hard to revere.

Ray Charles to you was a singer
Backwards and long ago he was a preacher

This of course means if you take Ray Charles the singer’s name that I am sure most know and reverse the name, you get the name Charles Ray, the father of the three women.

Argued to the Supremes

Again, Charlotte E. Ray the lawyer did argue in the Supreme Court and so the play on words with “the Supremes” and one could infer many meanings in this line.

Now the third sister was a teacher and I haven’t found out much about her, her name was Florence and Flo for short, and as I jumped periods with Ray Charles and Charles Ray, when I was reading about these strong women, and one must remember the time at which they made their accomplishments was not as today, it made me thing of another Flo, and therefore, I intermixed by thoughts of her with that of which I imagined the teacher would be.

Little, refers to the publishing company who published Henrietta’s sonnets

Not all poems are meant to be great, some are just stories, and I love adding double meanings and innuendo, because when engaging people in discussion, there is nothing that better than relating events and people they may know with those of the past they may not. As sometimes with students, we discuss poems at a local coffee shop, this type of poem makes for great discussions. 

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.

Copyright © Nya Johnson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

caged

like the animals
in a zoo,
we roam freely
within our allowed 
spaces---caged
and confined, yet
our cages are invisible---
we, like the unbarred 
elephant,
no longer chained---
oblivious to his power---
will not move
beyond the mental keloid chain
hooked around our brain:

today, we just march 
and sing sad songs---aping
caged birds---
crying to fly away home.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC | |

THE RAINBOW IS OUT

the rainbow is out now, 
I saw it this morning on my way to school

the rainbow our heroes of old died fighting for
                                                         died believing for
                                                           died praying for
                                                              died hoping for
it is out now, I see it in that school bus painted Black and White and Indian by its passengers

I see it, you can see it too mother just open your eyes and sight beyond the obvious
                       see it in that black child eating a samosa over there

oh the beauty of its splendored colors. 

I see it, you can see it too brother just open your eyes and see beyond the nose: 
see it over that white soul walking the streets of Soweto freely

I see it,  its splendor like a flower garden in the sky

I see it on that public toilet with no inscription: “whites only” 
I see it: you can see it too father in the faces of the so called “born frees”

I see it in the tongue of that Indian man speaking Zulu
see it too buddy? On that black dude sharing a rugby field

i see the rainbow  wonderfully engineered by the selfless life of
Nelson Mandela
                Walter Sisulu
                               Ahmed Kathreda 
more like painted stars in the sky but only in the skins of a people-a rainbow natio

Copyright © Patrick Nigros | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic | |

THE MODERN DAY SOJOURNER TRUTH

THE MODERN DAY SOJOURNER TRUTH Tired from the lack of work --------Trivial Lazy, I am not.-------------------Search Thinking about Non-Profit---------Self-Employment Freelance Writing, Tutoring, Virtual Administrator, etc…---------Thumbtack You can’t keep a real woman down.------------------Steadfast Many aspirations I have.----------------------------------Praying Gotta get up early in the morning.-----------------------------Mobile To define my purpose----------------------------------------Harmonizing To many negative thoughts------------------------------------Intune To why I continue to be down---------------------------------- Enthused This is not the measure I am in.------------------------------------Woman I am just as strong as [any] man.----------------------------------Sojourner! __________________________/ 04/17/2014 Form: Acrostic/End-Line Word 1st Place

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

What Burden

I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free
 Because the burden of slavery is no longer on me
 I've seen the thunder and the rain
 But like a plant outside, only growth I've gained

Stopped by the police, he just wanted to see
 What a black man was doing in a Grand Marquis
 Was reaching for my insurance, he said it was a gun
 Just a book about black man's struggle he had overcome

But see, he thought I was scared and wanted to hide
 But I sat in my driver's seat with all of my pride
 He couldn't get me mentally, so he drove away
 Yeah I' black, and my car came from a mom who would pray

See these statistics say black males just fight, kill and fail
 Do a poll on me, guarantee you'll change ideals of a black male
 See you think my emotions are bursting at the seams
 But I'm not an idealist, I'm a realist with dreams

My intelligence is leaving you scared, putting you in fear
 Yeah I said it, didn't Tyson your ear so I know you could hear
 The past is the past, back then they'd have to fight
 But I don't have to cause I was born with rights

America loves to call black dads deadbeats
 But can't acknowledge the ones finding their kids food to eat
 My black mama did it on her own and never had to steal
 And made sure me and my sister always had a meal

The first male in my family to go to college for a degree
 Yeah look passed the nappy hair and beard before analyzing me
 Been passing racial slurs generation to generation, it's time for an interference
 Cause I'm not a colored man, I'm a man with a different appearance

Yeah Dr. King fought for me and other blacks
 But he's gone now, so I don't need his actions on my back
 Don't read me wrong, I'm thankful for what he did
 But integration is wide open and segregation has a closed lid

These old racists need to go and plead the fifth
 So that future kids can see racism as just a myth
 Let this grudge end and just live your life
 Cause you're only stabbing the Constitution with a knife

Thank you for the slurs, lynchings and KKK
 Cause now you're all too tired to block the future so get out of our way
 My father in heaven made me, so I was meant to black
 He instilled wisdom in me, while you're intelligence slacks

So please tell me what burden do I have to bear
 Success is my future and now you're in a scare
 My light beams bright as the sun, you're unlit
 Struggles are done, I'm hear to stay so deal with it

http://soundcloud.com/abraham-t-shaw/what-burden

Copyright © Abraham Shaw | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

TEACH THIS POEM

TEACH THIS POEM The smell of fresh flowers in the courtyard and the sound of drum beats in the people's hearts brought children to the school house ready to learn A new concept to write from. The excitement of a new event brings youthful ideas. The tools and techniques of media clips and slogans is expression of the parade seen as the bands marched down the city streets. One banner read “Teach This Poem” while youth shouting out the words (and) of instrumental people empowered through cultural diversity and freedoms won via the rights and privileges provided by our founding fathers. Teach this poem of why this nation is immigrant formed and the origin is only known. Teach this poem during Black History month as focus throughout the year for this and every history to preserver like the slave that rose-up against iniquity. Teach this poem to mind-set the freedoms foreseen and for the strength of all humanity. TEACH THIS POEM! _____________________________________________________________________| Written to commemorate Black History and every history known. Date: February 12, 2016! Note: More can be added to "Teach This Poem" for empowerment or political activism for History Education integral to the Humanities.

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse | |

Spirituals and Drums

My ancestors walking in the night
using oil lights and moonlight for guides
while being instructed to Wade in the Water
to camouflage their scents like disguise

The Sweet Chariot awaited 
so they could ride away
Harriet was a soldier
and it wasn't an option to be caught during the day
That's the same mentality Nat Turner had when he sang
Steal Away

They would follow the drinking gourd
so all were in accord to go north
The Gospel Train was coming
and at the end of the journey
was a fine reward
Freedom was coming
and it was a long time coming and
they walked until they heard freedom bells ringing
and I still hear their tired footsteps running

Thinking of My Darling Nelly Gray
Stolen from my arms a random September day
and eliminated our chances to run away together
No family ties, no love, no strength says the oppressor

Then I hear the drums beat in the darkness
giving me the hope of finally being free
Maybe I'll follow them this time on faith
on bended knee
There must be a place for me among the light
of this darkness
Among oppression, thieves, evil-doers
no thought on their conscience

Thank goodness for the safe houses that
supported our traveled distances
and for the conductors who bore witnesses
and may God have mercy on the souls who
were against this
and on those who chose to forget this sh@!

I still hear crying in quilts of safety 
because I know that the burden was heavy
to be at the mercy of nature and patrol men
catching run-away slaves for money
Some did it bare feet with freedom ahead of this
loved induced journey and they made it
So all that bull about how your life is hard
just stuff it in an envelope and save it


Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Acrostic | |

Thanksgiving

Treasures and passages, peaceful as land, sky, and sea
Heartland of hope, harvesters and helpful hands
Abundance shows America as plateau of plenty
Natives in November remembers, family came first
Kindness swells, like tidal rhythm of breath across this land
Sacred words are heard, a symbol of gratitude and caring
Generations grace the day with family, and friends as guests
Indigenous folks can never forget... extending help
Visions of brighter days, of venison and veggies are stored 
I learned of Thanksgiving, migrating to America's welcoming shore
Now is reminder; shall I thank ancestors, or Source above
Gratitude reigns for all, one nation under God.

*

Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Different Look at Freedom

One way's happiness, the other gloom.
One way life, the other doom.
Straight ahead a bordem lurks,
Unseeable through lifes murk.
Look one way and then the other.
Consult with Father and with Mother.

Slavery is far behind.
Through the days that pass you'll find
In slavery you do not choose,
The jobs you do the tools you use.

If only slaves wern't worked so hard,
Their tired faces whipped and scarred.
If only master would give a break.
And not threaten like a snake.

Then slavery would be the life.
Without fighting, choices or strife.
But without Freedom there are no slaves,
So we need some people brave.
To be free, to be in command,
But no work others to the sand.

Copyright © Josh Halff | Year Posted 2008